It's Just A Tic
by Wurstlover178
Summary: After his doctor reveals something that has been overlooked for years, Mathias is forced to learn how to cope, but a few helping hands will prove to be all he needs to get through it all. DenNor, some SuFin and HongIce, Warnings Inside (Updates every Monday! Chapter 2 now up!)
1. An Itch You Can't Scratch

**Warning: This fic will contain language, sexual innuendos, a dash of violence and future lemon**

**Human/High School AU (since I don't think it's necessarily Gakuen)**

_**I'll be posting a chapter every Monday from this point onwards. **_Get used to that time frame.

Anywhale, if you read this, I'd love it if you would use that wonderful little textbox all the way at the bottom to leave me a review, or constructive criticism. I really don't care which.

_**Enjoy!**_

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A low chime rang on the intercom overhead, but it was nothing but a dull buzzing in Mathias' ears. As he hugged his backpack closer to his chest, his back was leaning against the bathroom stall, as if getting closer to the voices outside. The hum of other straggling students faded away after a minute or two, but was replaced by the heavy footsteps of security guards searching for anyone who was foolish enough to cut class.

In a way, he was one of those foolish people. But he felt like his reason was a bit more genuine than that of his classmates.

He slowly cracked open the door to his stall, grasping his backpack tightly when he heard the sound of boots from down the hallway. They sounded like they were retreating though, and that made Mathias calm down considerably. He sighed and opened the door completely, his own boots making a soft _thump_ on the white tile floor.

The piercing blue of the walls were noticeable by anyone as those of the "Men's Lavatory", as school officials called them. The smell of Sharpie was strong in there though, mainly from the brick wall being covered with graffiti of many kinds. Phone numbers, gang signs, Atheist symbols, whatever. If you named it, was probably there.

He didn't really care about what the other boys got up to, so he made cautious steps towards the door instead, trying to get a better scope of the hallway. He passed the mirror as he tiptoed over there, an object that stopped him in his tracks. His hair was a mess, sans the windswept look he maintained. Each strand of his blond hair looked entangled in another, mostly in the back of his head.

He narrowed his eyes at this and stepped towards it, putting his backpack down against the wall closest to him. His fingers ran through his hair in an attempt to fix it but he didn't manage a thing. It only made his tangled hair look like he stood in front of an industrial sized fan. He pursed his lips and tried again with the same result. However, he found this satisfactory enough and grinned at himself.

In one swift motion, he swooped down, picked up his backpack and headed towards the hallway. He stopped just before he could exit and poked his head out, checking for any sign of security. From what he could hear, there wasn't a person within hearing range of him, so he would be safe.

His foot tapped impatiently on the floor, a faint clicking echoing into the hall. Despite his assurance that no one was around to hear it, he still scolded himself for it, lightly knocking his knuckles against the wall to distract himself. When his tapping stopped, he huffed and left the bathroom.

Normally, there would be one or two people walking through the halls in addition to him, but the difference between these people and him was that he didn't have a hall pass when he did so. He liked to cut classes here and there, even if it meant being a little behind in the curriculum. Again, he had good intentions behind his actions, so he wasn't concerned about it.

The numbers engraved on the gold plated burgundy lockers were shrinking as he passed them. A245, A244, A243… He lost track after he took a right at an intersection in the hall, the numbers dramatically shifting to B1, B2, B3… Then he grew bored of watching the numbers. The urge to do something else was strong in his mind, a feeling he couldn't shake off no matter how hard he tried. So he coughed once or twice, simply to hear something bounce off the walls, reach his ears and provide a good stimulus.

It worked, making him a little more paranoid about being too loud in the halls. Anyone could hear him; a teacher, a security guard, a student. It was all just a matter of who happened to be within range to hear it.

He stopped at yet another intersection, unsure of where to go. He could go left and go to the classroom he was assigned to, go right and go in a circle, or go straight and use the stairs. He stood there for a minute, eventually deciding to go straight since it would be a new experience for him.

The stairs did a good job of making his movements sound louder than they actually were. From his footsteps to his breathing, everything was amplified, his paranoia being one of those things. He tried to calm himself down to no avail, his fingers drumming unconsciously on the straps of his backpack. Each step up was another breath taken, another sound echoing around him, another fear stuffed into of his bundle of nerves.

When he reached the top, he took a deep breath and pasted a smile to his face, trying to decide if he should go right or left now.

_Left or-_ His thoughts were cut short when he looked to the right and had his attention pulled away from him. A light was flickering all the way at the end of that hallway, making that section go dark for a second before it flickered back to life and started the cycle over again. Something about it drew him closer, inch by inch, like a moth to a fire. Maybe it was the fact that it stuck out like a sore thumb or maybe because the sound it made was louder than any he could create.

Whatever it was, he found himself stepping in that direction before he could stop himself. It wasn't until he was halfway towards it that he stopped short, blinking and processing how close he suddenly was to the broken light. _No Mathias! Just walk away. Don't get caught up in something stupid again!_ Somewhere deep inside his mind, he knew he should listen to himself, but another part of him was forcing his foot to move again.

"Damn it, no…" He grumbled to himself, lightly hitting his fist against his forehead. As he did so, his lack of movement agitated his consciousness, a familiar tapping sound emanating from the contact his heel and the floor made. "No, no, no."

_Just a little peek! Who's here to see me anyway? What harm is there to be done?_

"Everything. I can get caught."

_I'm just on edge. Take a breath, stop this nonsense and look at it. It could be a safety hazard. I'd be doing a good thing for everyone else._

He winced, a strange twinge in the back of his head acting up again. What felt like a pinch grew into pins and needles that spread to a larger area like a cancer on the back of his skull. His hand quickly and instinctively touched the area, his nails making quick work of scratching his scalp. It hurt to do it, but it was the only thing his body could think of to put an end to the itchy feeling.

Sadly, it only grew worse, a low growl coming from Mathias' throat and his hand moving more rapidly against his head. "Move, Mathias, move. Why are you doing this to yourself …" It took one final glance at the flickering light for him to make a split second decision to run the short distance towards it.

And just like that, the itch was gone. He stood under the light and stared at it intensely, watching the little sparks coming from the bulb with such concentration that it was almost scary to him. But he was too busy satisfying his impulsive need to go to the light and watch it. He found it interesting with the way it went on and off and made a little crackling sound as it did it. It was a sensory smorgasbord and he was enjoying every minute of it.

His fell slack, eyes wide and his body going limp. His arms hung like noodles at his sides while the straps on his shoulders were slowly sliding off. He didn't care though. It was pure bliss staring at something so meaningless.

"Hey, kid!" A voice called to him. Mathias' line of sight fell on the burly man suddenly in front of him but went back to the light afterwards.

"Hey…" He sighed back. The black of the man's polo shirt and his tan pleated pants could only mean he was a security guard on his round, but it didn't occur to Mathias to be scared. The guard crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"…"

"Do you have a hall pass?" Mathias shook his head slowly. His answer didn't placate the guard, a deep frown taking up his features. "Hey! Are you alive or what?" He grabbed Mathias' shoulder and shook him, knocking him out of his trance. He blinked hard then focused on the man before him.

"What?" They both stared at each other for a moment, measuring each other's emotions. From what Mathias could tell, the guard went from confused to stern and back again in mere seconds. But when the time came, he was all business.

"Let's go, kid." He grumbled, grabbing Mathias' arm. The pulling motion triggered Mathias' dormant fear, resistance following soon afterwards.

"Wait! Where are we going?" He asked, his voice cracking along with the sudden pull of his arm. The guard glanced back at him and tugged again, Mathias' anchored feet coming loose.

"To the principal's office. Truancy is unacceptable."

Mathias' eyes widened slightly and he tried to tug his arm free again. "Wait a minute, big guy! This ain't truancy at all, I swear!"

"Then what is it?"

_Yeah. What is it, genius? _Mathias would admit he didn't have a rebuttal for that one. So he sighed and gave up. "Alright, you got me…"

The guard smirked at him and pulled again, this time setting the two of them in motion. "I've heard stories about you, y'know. Now I finally get to turn you in."

"I bet you have, man." Mathias mumbled. "I bet you have…"

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"Mathias Køhler," Mathias looked up at the mention of his name, looking at the leather back of an office chair. The security guard that had caught him earlier was standing at the door, his arms crossed and his body going tense from the littlest movements Mathias made. These movements were quite frequent, being he kept picking up his hand to scratch his head, tapping his foot and just plain squirming in his seat. The guidance counselor was also there, but he seemed too absorbed in the perfection of his necktie to acknowledge yet another one of Mathias' appearances in the very same office.

On the desk in front of him were papers stacked upon papers, a fountain pen (for whatever cockamamie reason) and a name plate labeled PRINCIPAL. The balding man would give him hell for sure about this. It was his third time that week being there, and it was only Tuesday! What other speeches could he possibly have up his sleeve?

With this in mind, Mathias made a mental note to block out whatever it was anyone said. After all, he needed something to keep him occupied, not lull him to sleep. Even then, his legs would still be twitching.

Just another one of those things he couldn't explain about himself.

The chair finally made a swift turn around, one he probably would have missed had he blinked. Once again, he was faced with the familiar face of the principal, but it was covered by a file with his name, a paper clip attached to the top and most likely holding a picture of him in its place. "Age seventeen, Senior, has a record of disrupting classes and constant truancy, as well as instigating a fight and conspiracy for a fire alarm pulled in the Junior High School." Just hearing a list of his own wrongdoings-past or present-was giving Mathias a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Well, to be fair, I only _knew_ the kid who pulled it." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself, earning a light kick to his chair by the security guard behind him. The principal took notice of him too, gazing up at him behind his glasses and tossing the file onto his desk. The man leaned forward in his chair until his elbows met the desk.

"Well, to be fair, Mr. Køhler, the file says otherwise." Mathias gulped, leaning back to get as far away from him as possible.

"Heh… Okay. The file knows all." He scratched the back of his head again, already feeling it starting to become raw.

The principal smiled and leaned back as well, relaxed. "So tell me what brings you here today."

Though he was glad the principal wasn't yelling at him, it still made him a bit uncomfortable. He smiled and said, "The guard brought me here!"

"Yes, but can you tell me why?"

Shouldn't he have already known? Why did he have to explain? Who would subject a teen to this madness? "Um…" his eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up as he tried to remember. Fifth period, bathroom, broken light, guard, now the office. "I cut class and the guard caught me."

"At least he's honest." The principal mumbled to the counselor next to him. When he turned back to Mathias, the smile was gone. "It's not very wise to wander around in plain sight, you know? You could have at least been a bit more discreet about it."

"Yes, sir."

The guard, at this point, once again looked confused. He stepped forward to address his boss directly. "Sir, he was staring at a light when I found him. He was loitering more than he was wandering."

The counselor looked up from fiddling with his tie, eyebrows knitted together. "A light?"

"Yeah. He was staring at it, all googly-eyed and such. The thing was blinking and all he did was gawk." The principal now looked just as confused, contributing to the chain of adult conversation Mathias promptly blocked out. But the memory of the light made him wonder if it was still there, blinking away with not a care in the world-not that it had feelings-or if the janitor fixed it already. If he hadn't, maybe he could go back to it.

His foot starting tapping again with excitement. At least, that's what he thought it was. So long as his head wasn't itchy again, he could pass it off as that. The talking around him stopped, the room eerily quiet except for Mathias' heel hitting the floor. He hadn't noticed though, too preoccupied with looking around for something to keep busy with.

"Mathias," The guidance counselor said. "Can I ask you something?"

He looked at the lanky man suddenly in front of him, a little unnerved by his closeness. But so long as the guard was there, nothing bad could happen to him, right? "Sure. Let me have it." Mathias replied, grinning and still tapping away.

"Do you always do that with your foot?" Mathias quickly nodded. "Do you know why?" But to this, he shook his head. What kind of person notices these things anyway? It was a little weird in his mind. The only people who noticed were his teachers… and his classmates… and his mother. But these people were expected to notice. What was the big deal?

"How long have you been doing that for?"

Mathias shrugged. "I dunno. What's so important about it anyway? It's just a habit."

"A habit?"

"Yeah! Y'know, the thing you do without you really noticing?"

"I see…" The man didn't look to convinced though, his eyes probing for something else. He apparently got it when Mathias grew nervous and scratched the back of his head again. "Now why do you do that?"

He shrugged yet again. He sure was doing a lot of shrugging today. "It itches."

"But you do it a lot."

"It itches a lot."

"So you can never really get at it and make it go away?"

Mathias eyes widened at this. "How'd you know?" After this, the room went silent again, but was replaced with the principal going through Mathias' file. He found the paper he was looking for and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"Disruption of class. Throat clearing, getting up without permission and foot tapping…" His voice trailed off with the last offense listed off, to which Mathias raised an eyebrow.

"What? Is my record _that_ tainted with bad stuff that you can't name anymore?"

The counselor was the first to act, the principal staring at him like he had three heads. With a hand on his shoulder, he crouched down to make himself shorter than Mathias and smiled up at him. "Why don't you head back to class? I'm sure your habits are nothing to worry about."

"You mean I get off scott free?!" Mathias was literally bouncing in his seat from excitement, the tapping finally coming to an end. When the counselor nodded, he cheered for himself, picked up his backpack and left. He offered the guard a fist bump before he left though. "See ya later, big guy!" The door closed, leaving the adults alone.

The principal was the first to speak after a minute or two of silence. "You realize this is pretty strange, correct?" The counselor nodded.

"These kinds of things usually get noticed sooner."

"Is it possible this just sprang up?" The guard asked.

The counselor shook his head. "Unless his grade school records don't show the same symptoms."

The principal scrounged around through Mathias' record, eyes scanning the paper needed when he face palmed himself. "Unbelieveable…"

The counselor sighed and picked up the phone, handing it to the principal. "I think it's best if we get this taken care of as soon as possible. This way he gets the help he needs."

The principal stared at the phone for a while then snatched it away, dialing the number from Mathias' file. As he waited for someone to pick up, his eyes hardened at the counselor. "I just don't understand how no one noticed it until now."

"It's not uncommon, but it does reflect badly on a lot of people."

The principal pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed, turning around in his chair and speaking. "Yes, good afternoon, Ms. Køhler… Yes, it's me again… No, your son is not in trouble… Well, he was, but something a bit more," he looked back at the counselor for a second, as if looking for the proper word. "Important, came up… I think you should schedule an appointment with your son's pediatrician as soon as possible."

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**A/N:** LOOK AT THAT! I posted a thing, even though it has nothing to do with Canada! Weird… But its Denmark oriented, so yay for all those who love him! :3 (I don't mean to forget Canada though, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY!)

I know I should be updating my other stories, but this one has been buzzing around my head and after weeks and weeks of plotting, I'm pretty sure the story is good enough for the FanFiction world now. I guarantee my other stories will be finished eventually though. This is just the first story I'm updating on a schedule so I have some freakin' order in my life. "OTL

I'm also still on the fence of whether or not this should be considered an Angst fic or a Friendship fic. Hm... Ah well. I'll figure it out.

If there are any grammatical or spelling errors, let it be known that I don't Beta my stories. But this chapter has been looked over a couple of times, so if there is any, slap my face with an oar.

¡HASTA LUEGO, MI GENTES! From my computer to yours, this is Wurstlover178, signing off!


	2. The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

I'm pretty sure I forgot to put this in my last chapter, soooo... **HETALIA DOES NOT BELONG TO ME!**

Okay, carry on.

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When Mathias' mother all but forced him into the car that morning, he was already wary about it before she told him he had a doctor's appointment. It was a few days after his visit with the principal for his light gazing incident and he wasn't exactly wiling to trust some geezer in another boringly empty room for a pat down. Not only would it be uncomfortable as hell, but he knew he would end up getting fidgety again.

Every protest he had was swiftly put down, like a dog reprimanding her pup for playing too roughly; it was merciless and harsh, and stung a little afterwards.

_"This is for your own good, Mathias. Stop pouting like that! Honestly, I thought we were done with that face!"_

_ "You may be done with it, but I'm not."_

_ "Cut that out and act your age!"_

_ "I'm sorry. How old am I?"_

After that, he got his ear chewed off for pretty much the whole ride to the doctor's office. He blocked it out and tried to count all the red cars they passed on the highway while she went on and on about his age, how he was being disrespectful and how he should look at her when she was talking to him; the usual.

But after all that, he still found himself sitting with his arms crossed in the waiting room, listening to that sassy receptionist crack her gum obnoxiously while she was reading an issue of Vogue. There were many degrees of the medical variety mounted on the walls and several pastel paintings for the little tikes, but being as old as he was it was the worst combination possible. The spackled white ceiling looked like popcorn, just hanging there above his head, while the rack of old magazines beside him was stuffed to the brim. Even the television mounted in the far corner couldn't provide him any entertainment. It was all so bland, so boring, and so meaningless to him.

He glanced over at his mother to see her actually reading Cosmopolitan, the chosen reading material scarring him for a few seconds. He looked away and let his eyes wander across the ceiling again. _How do they do that?_ He thought to himself. The texture looked so bumpy and yet it looked so solid, like he could stand on a chair and still be unable pluck one of those bumps off.

The popcorn ceiling did a good job of distracting him for a while until his mother swatted his knee with the rolled up Cosmopolitan. "You're starting to drool."

He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his sweat jacket to find a trail of saliva soaking into the fabric. "Oops…" She left him alone after that but sighed beforehand. He hadn't noticed he had spaced out that badly. To the little kid sitting across from him, he must have looked like a simpleton.

He stared down at his hands instead, twiddling his thumbs mindlessly and trying to ignore the budding urge to cough. Unlike a normal cough, Mathias' need to do so was completely voluntary and was merely to make the feeling in his throat go away. His eyes met his mother's for the slightest of seconds and he hunched his shoulders, looking away from her. That gaze was the only thing stopping him from hacking like he had pneumonia, but it was also making things worse. The feeling in his throat grew exponentially, becoming itchy like a rash. He decided not to cough, but scratched at his neck as an alternative.

Unsurprisingly to him, it didn't work. _Come on! Why now?!_ He started grumbling to himself, rubbing his temples to ease the tension building there. _Any time but now! Please!_ A minute passed before he found himself unable to take it and coughed into his elbow multiple times, a look of aggravation and relief in his eyes.

"God damn it!" He exclaimed, hitting the back of his head on the wall. The eyes of several patrons landed on him, one child having her ears covered by her father. Mathias' mother, on the other hand, was quick to fix his behavior.

"Watch your language! There are children here!" She smacked his head with her magazine as she yelled at him, also earning the stares of the other people surrounding them. When her rage subsided, he glanced at the little kids and waved bashfully, an apologetic grin on his face.

"Sorry, kiddies. Won't happen again." They stared at him with wide eyes until he looked at the ceiling again, his head on the wall. _God damn it…_

"Mathias Køhler. The doctor will see you now." Mathias looked over at the nurse standing in the doorway with the clipboard in her hands. He grinned at her and stood up, chest puffed out in the cockiest of ways. If there was one thing he loved about going to the doctor, it was the nurses. At least he could attempt to hit on them or show off how much of a man he was turning out to be if they looked a few years older than him.

It was the old man in the lab coat he couldn't stand.

"Thank you, m'la- OW!" Mathias grasped his head in his hands and shied away from whatever hurt him, almost eye level with his mother. "Mor, what was that for?"

"Her eyes are up here, young man." She replied bluntly, drawing an invisible circle with her finger around the woman's face. The nurse became uncomfortable afterwards, cheeks flushing a faint pink.

Mathias nodded quickly and let the nurse take the lead. Because of his little "stare down", she was keeping a good distance from him, a fact that made him a little upset. _Damn it… What the hell, Matt? Quit being such a horn dog._

"The doctor will be with you shortly." Mathias wanted to apologize to her, but not only did she run off as soon as the opportunity presented itself, his mother grabbed his ear and dragged him into the room as well.

"Ow, ow, ow! Mor, cut it out! I'm not a kid anymore!" She let go of his ear once he stood in the middle of the room and took a seat in the first chair she could find, placing her purse in her lap.

"I'm sorry. How old are you again?"

Mathias' jaw dropped at how his own comment was thrown back at him but he gave her a few brownie points for it. He grumbled to himself and took his seat on the examination table, the paper tearing just the slightest bit as he tried to get comfortable. "Old enough to check out some broad…"

"Excuse me?!"

Mathias curled up in his seat like an armadillo. "Nothing, nothing at all!" He was certain her righteous retribution would to be delivered quickly, but just as she looked ready to burst, a man in a lab coat stepped in.

"Good morning, you two!" The youthful grin the strange doctor had immediately made Mathias suspicious, his eyes narrowing at him. He was a rather habitual person when it came to the basics of life; when to wake up, when to go to bed, when to rush out to the bus stop on a school day. But the man before him was messing up what he thought would be a normal doctor's visit. In his mind, a leopard never changed its spots, and he most certainly thought of himself as the leopard.

"You're not the normal Doc." Mathias said as he crossed his arms. The man smiled at him kindly, a sweet and homey effect coming off of his expression in spite of the freakish canines he sported.

"Doctor Patroski doesn't specialize in the field I do." Though Mathias wanted to ask questions, the man held out his hand and disrupted his train of thought. "It's a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Doc if you really want to. I realize my name may be a bit hard to pronounce." From the name tag, he was telling the truth. While "Køhler" provided some pronunciation difficulty, "Popescu" looked that much harder to make out. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of name it was, but it was certain it was some form of European.

"Alright, Doc." He said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. Popescu seemed pleased by that and plopped down in the stool not too far away from him.

"Just relax and everything will be peachy! I'm not here to hurt you." When Mathias grunted in response, he grinned and turned to his mother. "So, your son's school called about this, is that correct?"

"Yes. They told me to get an official diagnosis about it as soon as possible."

Popescu nodded, his expression suddenly serious. The ability he had to quickly go from a man as cheerful as an elf to one as serious as an undertaker was simply astounding. It actually scared Mathias a little bit, but so long as he was keeping his mother happy, he was okay with it.

"Alright, now let's get down to business." He picked up a clipboard that sat on the table next to some cotton swabs and cotton balls and clicked his pen several times. The sound shot through the air to Mathias' ears, penetrating his fragile peace of mind and catching him off guard.

_Why is he doing that so much? I'm pretty sure it works! Just use the damn thing already! _Mathias' eye twitched even when the doctor's hand hovered a few centimeters off the paper, the clicking coming to an end.

"So, the school provided you with information on his academic achievements, correct?"

"They did. His teachers said his grades aren't the best because he's constantly distracted."

The pen clicked again-open and then closed-a couple of times before he finally scribbled something down. Mathias wanted to peek at what he was writing, but not only was his hand writing impossible to read, his eyes kept snapping in the pen's direction, watching it make its tell tale noise and inch its way across the page like a cicada on a summer night. "Does he have an issue with keeping still in class or at home?"

"Yes." Another few clicks and Mathias' head started to tingle again. Slowly yet surely, it spread across his scalp, a white hot pain burning underneath. He resisted the urge to scratch for a while, but only because the sleek black pen in the doctor's pale hand kept making noises and it distracted him. He was starting to block out the questions that were being asked with every passing second, the words becoming a garbled mush once it reached his ears.

"History of…"

"No."

"Organi-"

"Poor."

"-ilization?"

"… Doesn't get out…"

The itchy feeling became unbearable after a few minutes, his nails not having the effect he thought they would. He resorted to rubbing against the wall discretely as to not disturb his mother or the doctor from their conversation. The smooth surface wasn't helping in the slightest; had it been the brick wall from school, his method might have worked. As he fought to hold back a frustrated groan, the clicking of the pen persisted.

_Click, click, CLICK!_

Every click called out to him, begging for his attention in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but him. It spoke his language, got into his head, and drew his eyes to it without a second thought. With as quiet a moan as he could muster, he leaned forward and decided to distract himself by counting the amount of times his thumbs spun around each other. _One, two, three, CLICK!_

The corner of his mouth twitched, his lips fighting trying to curl back over his teeth and let out an aggravated growl like he had in the waiting room.

_Four, five, CLICK, six, CLICK, seven._ He glanced up at Doctor Popescu and his mother talking to each other. The pen twirled around gracefully between the man's fingers, a lifeless ballerina kept in its place by the placement of the right fingers at the right time. It was twirling and spinning endlessly, the clicks resembling the audience's applause before it tiptoed across the paper and formed the words it was told to create. The doctor was the pen's choreographer, guiding it gently through its performance on the stage of paper and incomprehensible scribbles.

He was hooked. He couldn't pry his attention away from it and a blissful sensation washed over him as an effect. He was limp in his seat, shoulders slumped and his lips parted ever so slightly. The clicking became a necessity of life, something to distract himself from the pain.

_Click, click, click, cli-_ The click stopped halfway and Mathias' world stood still for a moment. He blinked to bring himself back to life, exchanging glances with the doctor and his mother. Doctor Popescu noticed his blank expression and rolled over to him. "Did you hear my question at all, Mathias?"

He only shook his head in response. The pen twirled in the doctor's hands again and grasped Mathias' attention with the tenacity of a bulldog. "You like this pen, don't you?" He didn't answer that question because he was entranced in the swift and intricate movements those fingers made to keep the pen in motion.

He clicked it once and Mathias snapped to attention; he was a dog and the pen was the training clicker. But with the way the he was being stared at, he wasn't sure if he was going to get a treat for it. Red eyes seemed to be talking to him telepathically, saying, "I know you're hiding something, but you're not telling me." Even if Mathias _could_ provide an explanation, there was no way he was going to. His thought process was ridiculous, outlandish and just plain absurd. What person with half a brain cell would want to listen to him rant about a pen?

Luckily for him, he didn't know how to put the experience into words, so he kept his mouth shut. The doctor's expression brightened just slightly and he held the pen about a foot from Mathias' face before clicking it a few more times in rapid succession. Mathias' ears perked up, his eyebrows moving knitting together in the slightest of ways, concentrating an intense stare on nothing else but the pen in front of him.

The clicking continued until suddenly, Doctor Popescu's hand wrenched back and sent the pen flying out of the room. The only trace of it that remained was the sound of it landing in the hallway.

Mathias jumped and redirected his stare at Popescu, eyes wide with pure shock pouring from his irises. He didn't have anything else to listen to or to stare at. His stimulus was gone, and that sent his head into a frenzy. He felt like there were tiny insects crawling under his scalp that stopped at the base of his neck and went back up to tickle the top of his head. All the while an intense pressure built up in his forehead, like a weight was placed there and crushing his skull.

He didn't know what to do. His first instinct was to clutch his head, lean back and take a few deep breaths to see if he could will the pain away. But as time wore on, it was clear to him that it wasn't going away. His foot unconsciously started tapping against the metal frame of the table beneath him, the clicks that resounded off the walls providing the smallest bit of relief.

The pressure was gone, but an intense urge to let out his anger was too much to bear. "Jesus Christ, my fuckin' head!" The sudden outburst caused his mother to jump in her seat, but Doctor Popescu didn't seem deterred in the slightest. He watched with the most serious of faces, watching him and making sure he didn't do anything too dangerous to himself or anyone else.

"Hm… I didn't think you would react this badly to it."

Mathias crumbled under the all-knowing tone those words held and leaned forward until his elbows touched his knees, his leg still moving and making the clicking continue._ So he did this to me? That prick wants to see me suffer, doesn't he?! _The inside of his felt like hornets were buzzing around and stinging at all the sensitive parts of his brain in an attempt to make his emotions flare up. Despite how much he wanted to keep it under control, those metaphorical bugs were succeeding in everything they did.

At the moment he stooped over, Popescu stood up and looked at the back of his head, gently placing his hands on the sides of his face to prevent him from lashing out. He let out a low hiss through his teeth at the sight. "Jeez, Mathias… You did a number on yourself back here."

Mathias couldn't work up the nerve to answer. He was being criticized for his habits yet again, as if he were committing a sin by doing them. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach was aching to reveal itself in a way that resembled vomit. He wanted to heave those hateful words and curses in his direction and make him back off so he could deal with it himself. However, those soft hands holding him still calmed his nerves in the strangest of ways. Somehow, he could just tell the touch was being considerate towards his emotions and didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

"You scratched your scalp raw. I'm going to have to prescribe some medicated ointment or shampoo for this." Mathias just nodded and the hands let him go. What he saw next caught him off guard.

A smile. It wasn't a fake smile that one would direct at a person they loathed, nor was it criticizing or apathetic. It was genuine, warm and inviting. He wasn't going to judge him for his habits like his classmates or his teachers did. He wasn't going to say he had fleas or tell him to stop moving around so much. He realized Mathias was but a helpless servant to whatever was making him do these things and he was offering to set him free from it.

"Otherwise, Ms. Køhler," Mathias' mother looked at the doctor after finally being brought back down to Earth. "Your son has severe ADHD."

Mathias trembled under the eyes of his mother. She looked like she wanted to break down and cry for her son but wanted to be the strong parental figure at the same time. She was caught in a tug-of-war of better interests; for herself and for Mathias.

"How can it be treated?"

"Stimulants and behavior therapy would be the best for his case." He turned around and faced her, lips pursed in a straight line. "I may be baffled as to why no one has noticed sooner or why he hasn't spoken up about it," Both adults glanced at Mathias, who stiffened at the pair of red and blue eyes staring at him. "But he's clearly feeling the effects of it."

Mathias didn't know what to say about that. He could still feel the weight of those eyes on him even though they had long since looked away. He felt like a circus sideshow, a freak in a cage. Popescu didn't appear hostile about it, but his mother looked downright depressed.

Without really soaking in anything they were talking about, he stood up and left the room as quickly as he could, just to realize the back of his head was tingling again and his movement was doing nothing to stop it. _Damn it! Why won't you fucking-_ "Stop already!" He kicked the pen that was lying in the middle of his path and watched it hit the wall. It clicked no more, its once perfect form now hideous to him. What was a pen to him now that it refused to provide him the mind numbing euphoria he needed?

He sighed and leaned against the wall, taking note of what was above him as he looked up at it. He wasn't sure if he could go through another day with his habits if it meant going through the hell he was already entrenched in. But until his mother stepped out of the doctor's office and provided the help he desperately needed, he didn't hesitate to continue staring at the bumps on the ceiling like he had in the waiting room.

XXXXXXXXXXX

**A/N:** It's Monday again! :) I really think this weekly thing is working out stupendously! A big thank you is in order to those of you who followed, favorited and reviewed this story! YOU GUYS ROCK! It took every bone in my body to hold me back from posting this chapter sooner because of you guys, but I made it, so YAY!

Anyway, there was _a lot_ of research that went into, not only this chapter, but the entire story. I had to go through many, many, many descriptions of treatments and diagnostic factors of ADHD. However, my research, like anyone else's, probably isn't perfect. So if there is anyone out there that is reading this and has ADHD/knows a lot about it and whatever I wrote or will write in the future doesn't sound accurate, I sincerely apologize. Regardless, I would like to know so that I can make this as realistic and enjoyable as possible. But there's a lot more to this story to get through, so that leaves some room for error.

This chapter proved a little difficult to write. Putting all the research I had scribbled in this purple notebook of mine and arranging it so that it was _just _right was a lot harder than I anticipated.

*sigh* C'est la vie…

On that note, I think it's about time I took my leave. Leave a review and make me the happiest Wurstlover in the world! I don't care if it's praise or constructive criticism. :3 From my computer to yours, this is Wurstlover178, signing off! I hope to see you guys next Monday!

_P.S. Don't question my choice of using Romania as the specialist!_ XD _The urge was too much to pass up!_

_P.S.S. If there's any grammatical errors, screw the oar and start throwing heavy objects at me. This chapter has been looked over way too many times for that to be acceptable._


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